


Immersion Therapy

by siDEADde



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: F/F, Rizzles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 04:00:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/895535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siDEADde/pseuds/siDEADde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benign neglect.</p>
<p>Maura lets the thoughts roll around her head as she and Jane sit side by side on her couch. They are watching an old documentary on TV, a Nova special chronicling the Harlow studies in the 1930s, and she notices that Jane is paying rapt attention despite her initial protests. For once, Maura is not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Immersion Therapy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [socks-lost](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=socks-lost).



> Prompted from a tumblr reblog by socks-lost in which nonsexual smut was requested. Super fluffy ficlet below. I'm not kidding. The fluff is everywhere. EVERYWHERE!
> 
> If you want to see the original prompt check my tumblr (sideadde) or socks-lost.

_Benign neglect._

Maura lets the thoughts roll around her head as she and Jane sit side by side on her couch. They are watching an old documentary on TV, a Nova special chronicling the Harlow studies in the 1930s, and she notices that Jane is paying rapt attention despite her initial protests. For once, Maura is not.

If she were being honest with herself (Maura _can_ lie to herself, hive-free, and she is grateful for this ability sans side-effect because it ensures her survival) she would admit that she's not paying attention because watching the infant Rhesus monkeys cling, hungry, to a foodless cloth "mother" reminds her too much of her own childhood. Maura feigning illness for a moment of her mother's hand on her forehead; Maura wrapping a round-brush in her hair in order to get 3 minutes of her mother untangling it from her head and complaining the whole time; Maura holding on to the handles of things just a second too long so that her father's fingers would have to grasp her own in the transfer. Little Maura Dorothea Isles would have happily starved if it meant her mother would gather her against her breast, or her father would swing her up in his arms. Sadly, food was plentiful in the Isles household. There was a famine of touch.

"Hey, do you pay these people?" Jane rasps out over the announcement that public television cannot continue without contributions from viewers like them. Maura nods distractedly, pulled from her unpleasant reverie, and notices that she has moved against Jane. The detective has stretched into the couch corner, right arm along the back of the couch and sock feet crossed and propped on the coffee table and Maura has subconsciously curled herself under Jane's outstretched arm, blond head resting against a bony shoulder.

"Do you pay them enough so I don't have to?" Maura's brow furrows as she tries to recall exactly how much of her charitable contributions is allotted to WGBH. Suddenly, she feels that bony shoulder thunk into the back of her head. "Oh my god, Maur, I'm just kidding. This monkey thing is fascinating so I'll send them a few bucks. I can't believe those asshole researchers could just sit back and watch those poor babies suf—are you alright?"

Maura can't imagine what her face must look like to startle Jane. She schools it back to something she hopes is Maura-normal. The doctor then snorts as the wordplay sounds in her head, tears welling up in her eyes in what she is deciding is a stress-response to an atypical situation. The fact that Jane's shoulder knocking against her head left her with goose bumps bothers her as well. Maura is on the verge of hysterics because of benign neglect, Harry Harlow's experiments, and an apparent penchant for physical abuse. She doesn't like being out of control, especially of her thoughts and so instead of dissolving into tears and explaining her issue with Nova and Jane's haptic communication, she instead channels her best friend and lashes out to deflect.

"Just because they followed Harlow's protocol doesn't make them assholes!"

Jane jumps as if stung, eyes wide and staring at Maura's now standing frame. The detective throws up both hands, as if to soothe a frightened animal, and rises slowly from the couch. "Okay, okay. They're not assholes for doing what they were told, even though what they were told to do is disgusting and unethical." Her husky voice is soft and she holds Maura's eyes with her own. "I don't really think this is about the not-asshole researchers, Maur. You're shaking."

Indeed she is shaking like those stunted touch-deprived monkeys upon reintroduction to the group. Like she used to three years ago in the presence of a whirlwind she only knew as Detective Rizzoli, a fountain of Italian emotion and physicality, and Maura _knew_ that one caress from those scarred hands would cement a lifetime of the doctor's undivided adoration. She closes her eyes and breathes a moment, imagining Jane's hand on her shoulder to help her center.

"Maura." The way Jane says her name is a barometer, and pressure must be high because it's bleeding concern. "Look at me."

When she opens her eyes she sees Jane standing in front of her with her arms out and those brown eyes filled with so much love that Maura feels herself tear up again. Jane is not a hugger, except for Maura, and Maura knows that for Jane to offer now means she's figured out what is wrong. The blond sighs softly and moves into Jane's embrace. Long arms wrap around her and she rests her head on Jane's shoulder, relaxing completely for a brief moment before pulling back. Jane's hands remain on Maura's upper arms for a minute, holding her still so she can't turn away.

"I want to try something, ok?" In spite of the tender tone and thumbs rubbing softly against her arms, Maura's stomach clenches. Jane waits for her to nod, and Maura is rewarded with dimples which immediately calm her stomach's initial reaction. "Can you go and change for bed? Something light, um, like a cami and shorts if you have them?"

Maura is puzzled by the request but simply nods again. Her emotions are jumping all over the place and she's still too unsettled to talk. She isn't sure if she'd burst into tears or start shouting again, so it's best if she just keeps her mouth shut for the time being. Maura can't but love Jane all the more for accepting her silence as something as ordinary as her normal loquacity. She offers her friend a wobbly smile before she walks up to her bedroom to change.

"Come back down when you're done, Maur."

The blond digs through her underwear drawer, shoving aside silks and laces until at the very bottom, she spots a pair of black cotton boyshorts that may actually be pajama bottoms, and a black cotton/lycra camisole folded together. She changes quickly, but once in the clothing she feels vulnerable and exposed so she grabs one of Jane's clean zip-up hoodies, slips it on, and walks downstairs.

Jane has switched the cable to one of the Music On Demand stations that plays classical and the soft and soothing sound of strings and woodwinds fills the living room. She, too, has changed into something like pajamas, a grey tank top and cut off sweats. On the coffee table there is a small plate with a few cookies and next to it is a glass of milk and what looks to be a cup of tea. Maura tilts her head, curiosity getting the better of her, and pads softly down the stairs. She hesitates behind the couch until Jane turns and sees her standing, barefoot with her hands stuffed in the hoodie's pockets. Maura is rewarded again, this time with a soft smile and warm welcoming eyes.

Jane reaches her hand out, wiggling her fingers until Maura pulls her hand from her pocket and links her fingers with Jane's. The brunette tugs at her until Maura is standing flush up against the back of the couch.

"What's up with the sweatshirt? Hiding?" Maura feels Jane's fingers tighten against her own so that the doctor knows she's teasing.

"No. Well maybe a little." Maura can lie to herself, but never to Jane. "What are we doing?"

"A little experiment. Come here." Jane adjusts herself so that her back is against the arm of the couch and one long leg is stretched out against the back cushions, the other still bent with her bare foot flat on the floor. She pats the space between her legs and tugs on Maura's fingers again. The blond has no choice but to follow her hand and come around the sofa. She sits gingerly in the middle, her lower back pressing against Jane's knee. The brunette frowns at Maura's stiff back and folded hands.

"Maur…" Jane starts then hesitates to gather her thoughts. "I know something is wrong. You're all out of sorts. You don't have to explain anything, but just so I can make sure I'm on the right track, will you answer a few questions?"

"Yes, of course." She nods as well, but doesn't meet Jane's eyes, fiddling with the hanging strings of the sweatshirt.

"Did watching Nova tonight upset you?"

"Some." She winds and unwinds the string around a finger.

"Maura, look at me." Jane leans forward and pulls Maura's fidgety hand into her own. "Were you comparing yourself to those poor things?"

Maura's chin wobbles a bit before she sucks in a deep breath through her nose. "I told you about my childhood, Jane. Seeing what touch deprivation did to those little animals. To see how awkward and afraid they become, ruined forever."

"You're human, sweetie, not a monkey. I'm sure you were affected by your upbringing, but you're not ruined and any social emotional shortcomings you have won't be forever." Jane brushes her thumb against Maura's knuckles. "Look Maur, you're my best friend. I love you. I hate seeing you hurting like this."

"I'll be fine."

"I know you'll be fine, but I want you to be better than just fine. I wish you would say something when you start feeling bad, I wish you would ask." Jane's voice is frustrated but her grip on Maura's hand is gentle and soothing. The detective clears her throat and tones herself down. "Immersion therapy. I thought I could I could try to start making up for everything you weren't given."

"Friends do this?" Maura's question is honestly curious. Jane could lie and Maura would be none the wiser, but the brunette owes it to her friend to be just that – her friend.

"No, generally not, but friends _can_ do this, I guess. Maura, you are starving for physical and emotional closeness, genuine affection, love. It's affecting your judgment and I don't want to see you taken advantage of anymore." Jane tugs Maura towards her, patting the spot on the couch between her legs. "If you are uncomfortable, we'll stop and never speak of it again."

Jane flashes her most disarming smile and Maura gives in to Jane's pulling by scootching over and sitting where Jane has insistently indicated. She is still stiff and unsure, nervous about being so needy and, in spite of Jane's offer, she's afraid this will be what finally sends Jane screaming into the night.

"I know that big brain knows that this works both ways and that I'm going to get as much out of this as you are."

Jane picks up the foot that she still has on the floor and tucks it up on the couch around Maura so that her foot is under her outstretched knee. The blond is essentially sitting sideways in Jane's lap and she's back to twirling the string around her finger. Jane smiles to herself, wraps her arms around the other woman and leans back against the sofa, bringing Maura with her. They both wiggle, jostling for space and to situate arms and legs. Maura tucks her shoulder up under Jane's and threads her arm in the narrow space between the brunette's lower back and the couch. She relaxes against Jane, her cheek resting against the brunette's chest.

"See, this is nice." One of Jane's hands is buried in Maura's hair, scratching gently against her scalp and combing through silky curls, while the other is wrapped around her waist holding her tightly.

"Mmhmm." Maura lets herself relax more, resting delightfully against Jane's warm body. There was something so beautiful about being able to be this close to someone without them expecting anything in return. She feels more loved right at this moment than she has for most of her life. Maura slips her free hand up under Jane's tank top, pressing her palm against the warm, smooth skin of Jane's back.

"Why don't you take off the hoodie?" Jane yanks playfully at the zipper-pull. "Although this is fantastic, I'm sure skin to skin is more effective." While Maura pushes up to get both arms out of the sleeves, the brunette takes advantage of her distraction to loop her arm around Maura's knees and spin her so that the blond's back is flush against Jane's front.

Maura laughs a little at the switch. She feels much better; cuddling with Jane has left her grounded and centered, confident in who she's become and unabashedly aware that she is in love with her best friend. She feels no pressure though, no angst at the knowledge. Jane said she loves her as well and if they are spending their nights in together like this, Maura is done looking elsewhere. She tangles her legs with Jane's and sighs happily as the brunette's long arms wrap around her. Bliss.

"Thank you for this, for everything." The blond whispers, hoping she is loud enough that Jane can hear.

"You're welcome." Jane presses a kiss to her temple. "Thank you for trusting me."

Maura captures one of Jane's hands in her own and idly traces the pink thickened scar while Jane plays dot to dot with the freckles on Maura's arm with the other. Now that the tension has drained from her shoulders, she's sleepy, but even if Jane would come to bed with her she doesn't want to end this moment. Instead she pulls the throw blanket from the back of the sofa and spreads it over the two of them.

Moonlight shines through the sheer curtains on the windows, the perfect accompaniment to the Satie piece playing through the TV speakers. Maura feels Jane's breathing slow and even out as the brunette surrenders to the sandman. She turns carefully in the circle of Jane's arms so that her ear rests against Jane's chest and drifts asleep with the beating of Jane's heart keeping time with the music.


End file.
